Some people go on living their lives not knowing why, and without purpose. A lot of people go to work because they need to and not because they want to. My father took his job not because it was his passion but because he needed to; he went on his entire life doing what he doesn’t do best, and being unhappy about it. He pursues his passion—woodworking—during the leftover hours of his week and until the fatigue from work catches up to him. His life revolves around his work which doesn’t even resonate even with just a piece of him. And it doesn’t make sense that we live our lives not to live, but to work.
I don’t want that. I don’t believe that your passion is only that which I will aspire from afar, but as something to be lived, something to occupy my every day. At the end of my life, I don’t want to remember my life and regret that I had not become who I could have been. At my core, I’m afraid of living a life devoid of meaning or purpose.
I think that in order to live life, you should know your passion, your purpose to the world. This is the reason why you live and why you do what you do. It’s about knowing the things you love, and going after them. It can only be done if I have a strong awareness of who I am; that is, my strengths, weaknesses, inclinations and desires. It is through knowing myself well that I will discover why I live and how I would live my way as the best way possible for Philip Jon E. Lewis.
It is with this conviction that I entered architecture. Having just graduated from high school then, I was eager to take on the world and to make my mark on it. Getting in one of the top architecture schools in the Philippines wasn’t easy. Aside from the university entrance exam, I had to take two other exams to qualify for a slot in the school.
Getting in was hard but staying was even harder. Major subjects were already given to us during our first year along with minor subjects, and that was topped off with a high cut-off grade that we all had to vault over. Sleepless weeks were spent making plans for houses, researching on space planning, studying the Philippine Constitution and the life of Rizal. Even though it was hard, I started to accept the fact that it was life.
Slowly, every piece started falling into place. I fell in love with the works, the idea of creating structures that would stand high and tall, that some might even represent something as big as an entire culture. I fell in love with it. And my enthusiasm showed: not only did I pass all of my subjects but I had outstanding grades. I was active in organizations and even managed to hold executive positions in them. My friends were the best ones you could find. I was happy and settled.
But one day, when we were having our Building Utilities class and studying about plumbing, it impressed upon me that architecture was about the gritty details too. I wasn’t expecting that we were going to study about plumbing, more so structural support and the more technical aspects of the work.
I realized I just fell in love with this idea of what architecture was but not what it really is. I realized that I took architecture not because I was truly enthusiastic about architecture itself. I took architecture because I fell in love with this idea of a good name, a stable future, money, and all the things man could ask for. And who wouldn’t want that?
But the problem was that, it wasn’t who I am and I can’t see myself as an architect in the future. I could go on studying architecture, have high grades and such, eventually I’d graduate and then get my license to practice. But I know in my heart that it will never resonate with me in the deepest level.
I don’t want to live my life knowing that who I am does not speak my most authentic self.
The fear of losing everything was holding me back. How could I let go of a path paved to fame and money and all the things I wanted? How do I let go of all the friends I had, the high grades that I worked for. But I was more frightened of the prospect of living my life dishonest to myself. I don’t want to remember shying away from a truth because I was afraid to let go. Sometimes the hardest choice and the right one is the same. And even if I felt all the pieces were already forming together, I realized that it was all for the wrong puzzle. Though I didn’t know what I wanted, I knew that architecture wasn’t for me.
In retrospect, I came to understand that my restlessness was a long time in coming. It had been haunting me at the back of my mind, and it had only come to fore that bright afternoon while my professor discussed pipes. The first seeds of discontent where planted during my first, enthusiastic days in architecture when I encountered a group of people who believed in something higher, better than what I was aiming for.
I have always felt that education in UST had been too traditional and too constricting. I wanted to keep the spark of imagination and enthusiasm alive and that is why I never constrained my learning to the four walls of my classroom. I voraciously sought sources of inspiration, from the people around me, the books I combed through in the library, and the internet. I came across a website that would change the way I thought about the world: TED, a site that shares thoughts worth spreading.
The speakers in TED were highly successful people who pursued their passions. Not only are they happy about the work they are doing, they are changing the world in ways never thought before. From there, I learned there are many different intelligences, different ways of approaching the world. My world opened, possibilities blossomed in places I thought non-existent or barren. I learned that learning is organic, that human flourishing is not a mechanical process, it’s an organic process, that it need not be constrained within the limits of a single discipline. Creativity knows no master and it happily cross-pollinates. The most important thing I realized about TED, however, is that no matter how vastly different their opinions, careers, or talents, all the speakers in TED are wholly committed to making the world a more beautiful, peaceful, humane world. There are many ways of doing it, and there are many ways of saying it. Perhaps we can disagree with the methods, but I hope our eyes should be fixed unto the horizon.
I have been reflecting the last few months and I’m slowly coming to understand that I desire education in the purest sense of it; that is, education, not just for the sake of creating employees later on but an education that is meant to equip me to better engage the world as a good human being. Rather than a narrow and technical view of the world, I would sync better with a liberal education. I believe that there is more to the world than is seen in one technical perspective. The world is large; learning is organic.
What had excited me in architecture was the possibility of helping create sustainable, earth-friendly structures for communities. I don’t want to renounce that. It’s just that I don’t want to learn how to design pipe-lines, but I’m more concerned about for whom those pipe-lines are—my fellow human beings. I’m interested not so much in designing physical structures, but the structures that govern people. I have always been interested in understanding how people work in social situations. How do we make the system work better for everybody?
So here I am now, pursuing what I believe to be the good. I am not going to say that I have now successfully mapped out my life. It is a little naïve to think that life will turn out the way we scheme it on paper. I realized that your passion is not something planned or contrived, it is something that beckons you, calls you. The most I can do is to walk towards the faint glimmering in the horizon. Like one of the shepherds in the Christmas story, I will follow the brightest star I can see. I may not know where it will lead me, but I will trust that I will find something worth my life, not just for myself, but for the world as well.
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